


Jackie O

by pleasebekidding



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasebekidding/pseuds/pleasebekidding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not looking for a boyfriend, Carol," he mother scolded. "You're looking for a husband."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackie O

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back, and it seems like a fitting time to publish it. 
> 
> Don't take it the wrong way. Anyone who knows my writing knows I love Carol; her relationship with Damon and Alaric in "The next hundred years or so" is something I really enjoy. I believe she was drive, pulled herself up by her bootstraps, and got what she wanted, in the end.
> 
> And there is nothing wrong with that.

Carol was raised in a trailer park on Kraft dinner and baked beans. Her own mother worked days in a hotel, maid service, and nights in a diner. Carol took in ironing and sewing from the time she was eleven, and told all her clients it was her mother who did it.

She never misplaced a pleat or scorched a collar. Never.

Dianne Lockwood taught her daughter to shape her eyebrows, to select a shade of lipstick that said wife, not mistress. She taught her to hem her skirts to exactly one inch above her knee and the one time Carol hemmed a skirt to four inches above the knee instead, Dianne slapped her so hard across the back of the legs she cried, and never did it again.

"You're not looking for a boyfriend, Carol," he mother scolded. "You're looking for a husband."

They shunned fashion magazines in favour of old films. Carol learned to shape her hair like Jackie Onassis, not Marilyn Monroe; the queen, not the tart.

Every cent they scraped up went on good quality, well-cut clothing. Nothing too fashionable, though an on-trend accessory never went astray. Carol learned to hone a compliment until it was as much a knife as a soothing hand.

"Your sense of fashion is extraordinary," she would tell one of the other girls in the office at the paper mill; "I can't wear fashion, I really can't. I haven't got the eye for it."

The hapless tart, whoever she was, would smile smugly. "It's a nice suit, though, Carol."

Carol would peer from beneath impeccably shaped brows, from blackened eyelashes. "Actual style is timeless, of course. Always worth keeping in mind. But day-glo orange is bold. And these trends are cyclical."

Dianne bought her daughter heels, forced her to walk in them until it was easy; kitten heels, stilettos. Taught her to identify the quality of silk by touch. Taught her to distinguish wool from a wool blend by running a finger over the knit and when to choose the blend over the pure.

"The right amount of rouge in the right colour takes ten years off your face," Dianne lectured. "Too much and you look like a whore."

Carol nodded and she never, never used the wrong amount.

Carol caught Richard's eye the day she was promoted to executive assistant to the vice president of the company, his smile dazzling, his jacket smelling like fresh banknotes. He introduced himself without breaking stride, raked unrepentant eyes over Carol's carefully honed body, over her shapely legs.

She was flattered, but unavailable on Friday night for a meal.

The following week, he asked early enough in the week that she was able to accept.

Six months later Carol was stringing Richard along like a dog in heat, with her legs carefully crossed and her panties locked up tight.

Carol sat in front of the vanity, powdering her nose, brushing neutral colours over her eyelids. Her mother placed a hand on each of Carol's shoulders.

"My beautiful daughter," she said, fond and fierce as she did everything. "Tonight's the night."

Carol nodded, blushing a little.

"And your cycle...?"

Carol nodded again, a smile spreading wide across her face. "I've got a good chance of getting pregnant," she confirmed. "This is it, mom."

Dianne wiped a tear from her bottom eyelid. "I'm proud of you. You've worked so hard for this."

"I couldn't have done it without you, mom," Carol answered, double-checking her reflection before taking off one accessory, as per Coco Chanel. "How do I look?"

"Mystic Falls' own Jackie Onassis."

The wedding wasn't quite two months later, and seven months after that Tyler made three, and they all lived happily ever after.


End file.
